


Getting Up Was A Bad Idea

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I had known there would be a dead man sitting on my couch, I would have stayed in bed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Up Was A Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt (the sentence used as summary) at [letterbattle](http://letterbattle.livejournal.com).

John stopped in his tracks when he saw the shadow of another person in the room. It had taken a while but he’d grown accustom to being alone in his new flat and he wasn’t familiar enough with anyone to start handing out keys. The fact that the shadow was sat on his sofa confused him but his first instinct was still fight or flight. He took a few steps backwards, slipped back into his room and took a gun out of the draw of his bedside table, just in case. Not that it would really be any help, the safety was still on. Bugger, now he thought about it, it wasn’t even loaded. He pushed on regardless, coming out of his hallway and aiming the useless gun at the back of a head.

“I’m armed,” he announced. “And I will shoot. So you should go now...before I do.”

“You won’t shoot,” an impossible voice told him. “Not for a burglar and certainly not with an empty gun.”

The head turned and _fucking hell_ , it was him, there, on the sofa, bold as brass, live and kicking, fresh as a daisy. John mind was spinning, his tongue rendered speechless while his mind turned out more odd sentiments, making less and less sense. Perhaps it was a good thing he was speechless, after all. 

“You’re not dressed,” Sherlock commented, as if it was a planned meeting and John was late for it.

“You’re not _dead_!” John said, eyes wide, incredulous. Something had kicked his brain back into gear and he was sure it was habitual annoyance.

“It is gone noon and you’re not dressed,” Sherlock said, ignoring his exclamation and doing a good job of sounding like a patronizing parent. “You were always such an early riser, I was counting on you being ready.

“Well, if I had known there would be a dead man sitting on my couch, I would have stayed in bed,” John retaliated, completely at a loss what to do so he did the only thing he knew how to; bicker. “How did you even get in? That door was locked, I know it was.”

Sherlock sighed, resigned to the fact that he would have to acknowledge the elephant in the room before John would drop his tirade. “You’re a medical man; you can see that I’m not in fact deceased. In light of that, you should put some clothes on, we have work to do.”

John stared hard at him for a moment before taking a breath and exhaling with a huff, turning on his heel. “Right.”


End file.
